Kartania, Seyari, and I hurried out of Castle Astrye. Truthfully, for the situation, we didn’t look terribly unofficial. Kartania certainly had the most imperious air about her, wearing full plate armor and a red and white tabard. That she had donned it made me nervous, but at the same time the decision fit her personality a little too well: a nice, thick shell on the outside.

Seyari and I wore company uniforms, and she’d managed to style her hair into something that looked convincingly purposeful. The earlier scorching had been taken care of via healing magic, and she’d managed to coax it out to nearly shoulder length in only a few days.

My own was loose—no time to tie it into a braid—and I wasn’t going to bother with a human disguise. Or at least I didn’t want to.

“Will High Priest Grants attack me on sight?” I asked Kartania.

Seyari beat her to a reply with a snort.

My sister ignored the half-angel and answered tersely, “Probably.”

“What if I go in human form?”

“Then he’ll attack you as soon as you show your ‘true colors.’”

“The hell kind of a problem does he have with crimson?”

“Renna,” Tania warned.

Seyari, somewhat surprisingly, came to my defense. “She cracks jokes when she’s anxious. And trust me, they’re usually worse, so just bear with it.”

“Should I just stay back?” I offered.

“Then we’ll get it for ‘consorting with demons.’” Seyari put a lot of emphasis on the consorting part.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Kartania answered. “The only way this can go well is to be up front and get them talking. Play down the threat you pose so they think the situation is in their control and use your ties to the Gelles Company and your reputation to keep them talking. They’ll want to fish for information to see if they can’t uncover a dastardly plot.”

“What happens next?”

Kartania stopped, and I almost ran into her shoulder. “Then… unless we’re incredibly lucky, I have to side with them and pretend to be under your influence. You’ll need to retreat because killing them will give them all the ‘evidence’ they need.”

“Tania…” I looked down at her, and remembered the night before. We’ve just gotten to know each other as sisters! “I’ll find a way. There’s got to be a way. The Gelles Company and King Carvalon can vouch for me. I know I said I wasn’t going to, but I can let them ‘capture’ me if it means a chance we’re not forced apart.”

“No,” Tania answered with a firm shake of her head and wavering eyes. She had her hair, black like mine, in a neat braid and tucked into her armor. “I… won’t let you. You’ve been through enough debasement. I’ll go back, get cleared of influence, and High Priest Styon will hopefully be able to leverage his influence to get me out with no more than a demotion.

“Sister, I—”

“She’s right, Renna,” Seyari said. “Kartania, where are we meeting?”

“Outside the city. There’s a vacant farm on the way to the pass.”

“Well, that kid priest’s smart enough to at least assume fighting Zarenna—or any greater demon—in the middle of a town is a stupid idea.”

“Kid?” Tania asked, confused. “High Priest Grants is over fifty years old.”

Seyari stopped, then swore. “Shit. He might recognize me.”

“Recognize you? Seyari, explain.” Tania stopped. “And fast.”

“Alright, does the name Yothariel ring any bells?”

Now it was my turn to be surprised. Was Sey really going to tell Tania—and now? In a hallway where people could be listening?

Tania thought for a moment. “…Yes. An angel who became corrupted and was part of the same corrupt Inquisition force that we’re going after. Well, the older incarnation of it—she died before I was born.”

“Three-quarters angel, and she’s not dead.” Seyari winced. “Sorry—no need to make this melodramatic. I’m her—or, well, I gave up that name a long time ago. The Inquisition raised me, Mordwell brainwashed me, and I did a lot of bad things. And you already know damn well that Mordwell didn’t ‘save the inquisition.’”

Kartania stiffened, then studied Seyari. “Yoth—you killed them then, if you were her, is what you’re saying, right? Yothariel was the one who nearly wiped that cult out. Even with the magic you have, I find that a little hard to believe.”

“What possible reason would I have to lie? It’s true; I got everyone but Mordwell and a couple acolytes—Finley included. And before you ask, I lost my wings as part of it. Not for some ‘divine retribution’ but because they were destroyed.”

“You’re worried High Priest Grants will recognize you? Also, I am going to assume Zarenna knew all this before you two got into a relationship.”

“I did,” I said quickly. “She gave me the long version.”

Seyari nodded. “I did, yes, and that’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

Tania shook her head. “Thank you for telling me, but while this complicates things, it’s secondary to Zarenna being a demon. In fact, it might actually help us to keep the conversation going.”

“I’m not going to bring it up unless he recognizes me. He probably wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

Kartania nodded. “That sounds like as close as we’re going to get to a plan. Now let’s move. We’ll talk strategy on the way.”

I took a deep breath, and followed my sister and fiancée the rest of the way out of the castle and into the harsh winter sun.

***

The field of snow between us and the Church force was almost entirely unblemished. Heavy enough to push down the weeds, but not quite deep enough to smooth over the furrows and lumps of the disused field, it formed a tenuous sort of barrier.

Stolen novel; please report.

Very tenuous. My mind was probably grasping at straws, because I was going to have to figure a way out of an impossible situation very, very shortly.

When we approached to the point where conversation could be held at a volume other than shouting, the man in the lead did anyway.

“Halt!”

We halted. No sense in being contrarian. From what Kartania and Seyari had told me on the walk-turned-jog here, High Priest Grants styled himself as a good man. And, in some ways, he was. Uncorrupt, and a servant of the people. I’d probably disagree with what Kartania politely called his “reductionist” religious philosophy, but he wasn’t a murderer.

I had to remember that, because my claws really wanted me to forget. His presence here was a power play by the Church. Edath, the autonomous kingdom whose king disavows the church, is asking for aid to quell a demonic threat?

Well, that couldn’t be ignored. Egg on their face for not going after their own turncoat. Two turncoats, if you counted Mordwell—which I certainly did. But that didn’t mean they’d like it.

So we got this guy. And I had to say he looked competent. Twelve-year-old me would’ve had an image in mind similar to High Priest Grants when the words “High” and “Priest” came to mind. Neatly cut salt and pepper black hair, a well-trimmed mustache and small beard, piercing eyes, and a posture so rigid it would make an oak tree blush.

He couldn’t have been younger than forty, or older than sixty, and he carried his age well. That, and a suit of armor and an axe large enough that I wondered if there wasn’t a more practical choice of weapon for a human. High Priest Grants had that axe out, and pointed at me.

Us, really, but it was at me.

“High Priest Grants,” Kartania opened, giving a formal bow. Seyari and I had taken the flanks behind her, and from my position it looked almost like two opposing armies meeting. Except they had three dozen people, some on horseback, and all well-equipped. Three dozen people I could probably kill despite all their training.

No, bad wrath demon. Killing time was yesterday, talking time is now.

Or there won’t be another talking time.

I missed all of what the high priest said in return, but Kartania gestured at me and I got the gist of it.

“Zarenna Miller,” I said, bowing shallowly myself. “Of the Gelles Company. I’m here to eradicate the demonic threat posed by a cult that included rogue former Inquisitor Finley.”

“You.” High Priest Grants studied me. “High Inquisitor Mordwell should have already taken care of that problem—and you.”

I tilted my head. “Me.”

His eyes glowed, then narrowed. “Paladin Miller, and…” he trailed off when he got a good look at Seyari.

My fiancée didn’t speak, but kept her chin high.

“You…” The high priest’s confusion spread to those behind him, and the ranks, weapons drawn and ready, faltered.

“What is Theodric Mordwell to you, High Priest Grants?” Seyari’s tone was even, but her words were clipped with withheld fury.

Fury I could almost taste.

“The High Inquisitor is a beacon of light in these increasingly dark times.” High Priest Grants cast a look my way. “I am surprised he’s not yet killed you, demon. Or you, traitor.”

“That I failed to kill that demon-obsessed lunatic is my largest regret,” Seyari said simply.

“We do not wish to fight!” Kartania assured quickly. “If you would simply speak with the townsfolk, you would come to know the truth of this matter.”

“And you will not tell me?”

“You would not believe me.” Kartania’s tone turned bitter with realization. “Am I not compromised?”

“You are. That still does not answer why a ghost from a dark past and a greater wrath demon of considerable power are allowed to roam free.”

“Mordwell fled,” I answered. “Further to the south.” I bit my tongue to avoid elaborating. If I had anything to do with him finding out the truth of Mordwell, he’d disbelieve it.

“From you?” Hands gripped tighter around the veteran warrior’s axe, and it began to glow. “You’re strong, but you’re foolish for thinking I’d fall for your lies.” I felt his anger, but I didn’t reach for it. He had training, and if he felt that sot of manipulation, he’d give me no quarter.

So I ignored the sleight and gave a shallow bow. “I’ll introduce myself again. Zarenna Miller, Sovereign of Wrath.” I mentally prepared myself to run. Can’t afford a fight here.

That gave the High Priest pause. He swore under his breath and I caught Yevon’s name. “You’re too weak to be a Sovereign Demon.”

“I’m new. And I’m trying to do things a little differently.”

Kartania gave me a look.

“Hah.” There was no mirth in the single, dry laugh. “Paladin Miller. I don’t see any influence on you, but it may run deeper, and if so, my apologies to your next of kin—”

“My family is dead, save one. And…” Kartania hung on the last syllable, then took a single step to the side, and towards me. “I am going to stand with her.” My sister gave me a nod, and I could see a shimmer in her eyes.

This choice is going to end her career—if not her life. She chose me. I don’t care that High Priest Grants wanted to kill her; she still chose me!

High Priest Grants nodded solemnly. “A true tragedy then. I must thank you demon, for delivering yourself to me, and for your cordiality, even if false. Your words may even provide insight into—”

“WAIT!” The shout came from an unfamiliar voice, and it was far away—back up toward the pass.

He didn’t wait. No one is dumb to fall for that, even if it might have been legitimate.

High Priest Grants charged me, a vicious overhead swing backed with a shimmering array of holy-bladed light. From behind him, twin walls of wind and ice burst forth, blocking the brunt of the incoming volley even as they were blown apart by the greater combined magic of our opponents.

I met the high priest’s charge head on, only to throw the weight of my tail into a pivot. I caught his axe swing with two arms, feet digging through snow into dirt from the sheer force. Mid-turn, my other two arms, claws dulled, went for his waist.

Tall as he was, I stood over High Priest Grant by both head and shoulders, and I pulled him close. Still spinning, I threw my weight against him and we crashed to the ground, the High Priest on the bottom. Immediately, he started to glow with holy light, and I my flesh began to sear.

My two upper arms tore the axe from him, sending the weapon careening off into the snow. I pinned his arms, then his legs, even as I lost feeling in my limbs. From the way his face contorted in fury, I knew any words would be pointless.

Seyari and Kartania stepped past us, and met the charge head-on, even as that same voice shouted to stop again. Hissing, I pushed my magic back against the High Priest’s. Ineffective as it was, I made progress, and my half-charred hands started to heat up.

That I wasn’t dead must have shocked Grants, as his wrath faltered, and I imagined the look in his eyes to be fear. I wanted to see more of that. Crimson wings bursting to life through holes already burned in my poor outfit, I jumped up and rocketed skyward, High Priest in full armor in tow.

I let go of his other limbs, holding him by the leg like a child with an old doll. Worse for him, his magic had passed its peak, and my own was fighting back furiously. As a terrestrial demon, I wasn’t as affected by holy magic, and right now that was everything. My fingers around his leg weren’t so much gripping as charred in place.

“Go ahead!” High Priest Grants shouted over the wind. “Kill me! Others will hunt you down and kill you!”

Below us, the town spread out as we climbed higher and higher. Too late had the other Church forces realized and we were now well out of reach of their magic. From the edges of the city, I could see the dots of people gathering, witnesses to this fight.

“That’s the only reason you’re not dead right now,” I hissed. “You fancy yourself a good man. Maybe you are. You fight my kind who are experts at feigning sincerity. But sometimes it’s real, isn’t it? You ever killed a demon and wondered, High Priest Grants? Wondered if maybe things could’ve been different?”

“Of course not!”

“Really? No colleague’s ever said anything?”

High Priest Grants was quiet for a moment, and I leveled us out at a good height—the better part of a kilometer.

Then he spoke. “I won’t let you in my head, demon.”

“I’m a wrath demon, not an envy demon or a lust demon. Do you feel unusually angry? A lack of fury?”

This time, Grants stayed silent.

“I’m not going to change your mind—and I don’t know if I even want to. Once, I would have tried. I’d have sat down there on the ground shouting over and over again how I was a ‘good demon’ as you burned me to a crisp. Maybe if I didn’t fight back, I’d change your mind.

“But that’s bullshit. Maybe it works for a few people, but what about when it doesn’t? Do you know what happens then? I die. My friends die. My family dies.

“I’m not a monster, High Priest Grants, and I’m sorry you think that way. I really am. You’ve no reason to believe otherwise, as you’ve said.” My voice turned bitter, almost a snarl. “No indication—somehow—that demons could be anything other than insane arbiters of evil. And it sucks.

It fucking sucks.”

I dropped him, head-first.

Damn, the sky was blurry today.